The Beeping
by hollygwood
Summary: Kurt is lying in a hospital bed after being beaten up, and Burt reflects on anything and everything. One shot.


_The Beeping_

Just a pointless little one shot I wrote when I was bored over the Christmas holidays. :) Kurt and Burt, because I love them so much.

Burt watched Kurt struggle to breathe, he watched Kurt's chest hitch and struggle, watched his son's beautiful, strong facial features twist into a wince every time his chest hitched that way. He listened to the constant beeping from the life support, a noise that a day previously he would have found annoying, but that now was the best thing he'd ever heard. He became attuned to the beeping, the beeping became a part of him. Because that constant, steady beep told him that his son was still alive, was still breathing, that despite every horrible thing had been done to Kurt he was continuing to fight for his life – and that was what was keeping Burt going, that and feeling Kurt's hand warm and small inside his. His love of his son and his need to keep him safe and happy was the only will in the world stronger than wanting to find the animal that did this to his son and torture them until they were on their knees begging for death. Every time he thought about what they had done, he was so angry, so full of rage and hurt that he could barely think straight, and he would need to calm himself down by tuning back into the beeping, and sometimes leaning down to Kurt's chest and seeing the rise and fall. He tried not to look at the mash of bruises and stitched gashes on every visible part of his son's body, because then he'd be sent free falling back into the rage, and he'd have to begin the whole cycle again. So, mostly he tried to concentrate on the only person who mattered; Kurt. Kurt and his beeping, his beating heart, the boy who defied the odds again and again.

Burt swallowed and thought about the first time he ever held his son, his wife lying tired and happy beside him in this very hospital. And some nurse, she handed him his son, the tiniest little boy, with big blue eyes and a shock of brown hair. He was so small, so breakable, and Burt understood in a split second what it was to be a parent. To love someone so much, to know that from this moment on, they are the one anchoring you to this world – this child, this small, fragile baby was relying on Burt to keep him safe, and as Burt held Kurt – so tiny, warm, heart beat steady and strong, he knew he would never love anyone in this way; it was animal and simple – Burt would do anything for this little boy, and if anyone ever tried to hurt him, Burt would take no mercy on them.

A while later, when the hospital was quietening, the day winding down, the sky darkening, Burt remembered Kurt's sixth birthday, when all he'd wanted was Barbie dolls, had never shown one spec of interest in sport, rough play or super heroes.

"Honey, don't forget it's the one in the pink dress he wants," Elizabeth had told him as he headed out of the door to buy gifts for his son.

"I know, I know, kid hasn't shut up about it for weeks!" Burt replied, kissing his wife on the lips and smiling, "I love you, I'll be back later."

Burt remembered as clear as day that that was the moment he knew he was a changed man; different from the immature kid he'd been at college, the guy who played the girls, the manly jock who laughed at boys like his son. He'd never been a bully, no, but he'd thrown terms around in the direction of boys like Kurt, words he didn't even want to think anymore. Because though he would never judge his son because of his love of shoes and dolls, he was pretty damn sure his son was as straight as a circle. And if you'd told Burt in college his son would be gay he'd of smacked you one, and then laughed in your face. But then Burt had Kurt, and his world changed – he realised how wrong he'd been, and if anyone did to his son even half of what he did, he would break their door down and tell them straight to stay away from his son if they wanted their face to stay in the right place. Because he loved Kurt so much, just the way he was, if he even had the option to change Kurt he wouldn't, because that little boy was one of the strongest people he'd ever known, stronger than most adults. Because Kurt was special, Burt knew that already, and he knew his son was going to leave a mark on this world, a mark bigger than either of his parents or this crappy cow town. He knew he'd have to protect Kurt from people who would never understand him, but that was okay with Burt; he would happily spend every day until he died standing up for his baby boy.

Burt sighed and looked down at Kurt's damaged face. He hadn't been able to protect Kurt this time, Kurt who put up with so much, every single day. He wished he could have protected his son from this, wished he could protect him from all the spiteful homophobia he knew was out there; but he couldn't it was impossible, he knew that now. He would just have to be there for the son who had always been there for him. Burt thought back to the hardest time in either of their lives, a time they never wanted to go back to.

"I hate you, I want Mommy," eight year old Kurt yelled, his lip wobbling. His eyelashes were spiky with tears, and he continued to yell, "I wish you died not Mommy."

"Well you're stuck with me okay, so make the best of it you brat!" Burt yelled at his son, who collapsed into tears and ran out of the room, slamming the door behind him, where he leant against the door frame sobbing. Burt, meanwhile, slumped on the kitchen table, sobbing identically to his small son. Since his wife, Kurt's mother had died two weeks previously, their whole happy, comforting life had crashed around their ears and Burt didn't have the faintest idea how they were going to manage without her. He sighed, rubbed his eyes and stood up. He knew how lucky he was still to have his son, the light of his universe, and he sighed again before heading to Kurt's bedroom and knocking on the door.

"Hey, kid can I come in?" Kurt sniffed and Burt took that as a yes and walked in. Tears pricked in his eyes again as he saw his son slumped on the ground, arms around his knees, sobbing.

"I'm...sorry...Daddy," it came out in choking gulps and he attempted to speak again before breaking down into sobs again.

"It's alright squirt, come here." Burt sat down beside Kurt and pulled him onto his lap. Kurt clung to him and when he was a little calmer, he looked up at his father.

"I'm sorry, I don't wish you were dead, please please don't die I love you." He sobbed into Burt's flannel shirt. "I just miss Mommy."

"I know. You're not a brat. Kurt, I love you. What has happened to us is horrible, but we have each other, we're gonna make it through you and me, sometimes it'll be hard but we're gonna have lots of fun, okay because that's what Mommy would be wanting us to do isn't it?" Kurt nodded into his father's chest. "And if you ever feel sad about her, or you miss her, talk to me about it. Don't be scared it'll upset me. We should talk about her lots and lots, because we love her lots and lots." Kurt nodded again, and after a long while cuddled into his father's shirt, he looked up at Burt.

"You're my favourite person in the world, Daddy and I'll look after you for always."

"Well that's funny because you're MY favourite person in the world, and I'll look after you for always too." Burt replied, kissing Kurt's forehead and pulling him even closer.

Back in the hospital, Kurt was still beeping, and Burt was still remembering...

He remembered every time Kurt came home from school dejected; it happened mostly in high school, and mostly when Kurt was fourteen and upwards. As the years went on, Kurt would come home and close off from his father about any bullying that had happened to him; he'd chat happily to Burt about everything else; the garage Burt part owned, Glee when that happened (and Burt noticed the change in his son when it did; and it was a positive one) his friends, particularly Mercedes. But whenever Burt questioned Kurt on why there was slushy all over his brand new jacket, or why he smelled like the dumpsters out the back of the garage, or why he flinched every time he saw someone in a red jacket, Kurt would close off as he'd learnt to do so well. So Burt did what he always did, he loved his son and tried to keep him safe and happy in his home; as long as that was so, he hoped Kurt would get through it.

But he hadn't. Some psycho had done this to his son. It was beyond him how anyone could beat a boy as small as Kurt so hard he ended up in A and E without even seeming to feel remorse, why anyone would hate someone because of something as simple as sexuality; because Burt knew without even having to wait for Kurt to wake up and explain that his son had been beaten so brutally because he was gay. He shuddered when he thought about how fearful his son would be for a long while after this, but he concentrated on the beeping; Kurt was alive, Kurt was alive, Kurt was alive...

"Mr Hummel?" Burt looked around and saw a policeman standing at the door. Burt picked up Kurt's hand and kissed it, then stood up and walked to the policeman, where they stood in the doorway.

"That's me." Burt replied, and they shook hands. Then the policeman continued.

"Mr Hummel, we've examined a CCTV tape from the school on the night Kurt was attacked."

"Did you find out who it was?" Burt asked, his heart hammering.

"Yes. It was one boy." Burt shivered as the policeman said that; it wasn't a reckless gang; one boy had intentionally gone out and beaten his son until he had internal damage.

"What's his name?" Asked Burt, fists clenched.

"David Karofsky." The name rung a bell – maybe Kurt had complained about him before. It didn't matter, all that mattered was that Burt wanted to find this kid right now, and...

"D-dad," it was a small sound, a croak. But it was enough. Burt turned back into the room and saw for the first time Kurt was stirring, his eyes flickering open, his hand reaching out for his father. Burt left the policeman and walked back to his son. He sat down and held his hand again, wanting to embrace him so badly but afraid of hurting Kurt even more. When he looked at Kurt again, he looked confused. He moved and yelped out in pain, wincing. "It really hurts." he complained, a tear tracking down his cheek. Burt slapped the button on the wall.

"I know, it's ok, it's all gonna be ok Kurt." Burt murmured, kissing Kurt once on his bruised tear stained cheek.

"Are you ok dad," Kurt croaked.

"I'm fine kid! Don't you dare start worrying about me." The nurse smiled as she walked in.

"Hello, Kurt, nice to see you awake. Is the pain very bad sweetie?" Kurt nodded and swallowed, and Burt knew it must be so, because his son rarely let anyone see how much anything hurt him. The nurse adjusted a drip and said; "I've added some extra painkiller, honey. That should send you off soon." She smiled at Burt encouragingly and exited the room. Kurt squeezed his father's hand back. Then his eyelids began to droop.

"Sleep, kid." Burt smiled, a tear falling down his cheek. Kurt nodded.

"I love you Dad." Kurt croaked, then squeezed his father's hand one more time and fell back asleep.

"I love you too," Burt replied, and watched Kurt sleep for a long, long time. Then he fell back in tune with the beeping. Teaching Karofsky a lesson could wait; being here for his son couldn't.

_Beep, beep, beep, beep, beep_


End file.
